Pushing Daisies
by wellclutchmypearls
Summary: Casey is intelligent, resourceful, and patient. Her childhood experiences taught her to be tough in order to preserve. She sees the world as it is, not how she wants it to be. When Rick offers her a place with his group, she accepts, realizing that she needs to rely on people to survive the Zombie Apocalypse. Daryl/OC. Slow burn romance.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I take no credit for this work. Characters based off of TWD (AMC) and Split (Casey Cooke is a character in the movie). Some dialogue is taken from the films.**

* * *

Casey Cooke has never expected much from life, but today she figures the least life could do was cut her a little slack.

She's on her back from a supply run, barely having escaped a herd of zombies, limping towards her tent when the sky turns dark and rain begins to heavily fall down. The rain doesn't stop and a minute later she's soaked. By the time Casey stumbles towards the tent entrance, her teeth are chattering and her leg is cramping. She barely makes it into the tent.

She's only managed to bag a couple of cans of food, and she didn't find any medical supplies. She has a fever—she's been burning up for a couple of days now and she desperately needed to find medication. Instead, she found that the CVS was packed with zombies… she had barely made it out alive, but she is empty handed.

Not many people could handle being alone, especially with dangerous strangers and zombies roaming about, but Casey was used to relying solely on herself. She had always been isolated and different from her classmates—they were always safe with their friends and families. But, they couldn't see the evil hidden away behind a smiling facade. Casey could see. They never had to lie awake at night in fear of approaching footsteps… unlike her. For Casey surviving alone is nothing new. She prefers this isolation to being with her Uncle. But, on days like this, she wishes she had some help.

She plops down onto the tent floor, throws her hunting riffle aside and closes her eyes. Her ankle is throbbing. She feels hot, but she's shivering and she cannot bring herself to undress. She knows that she shouldn't fall asleep just yet—she still has to check the perimeters around her tent for any stray walkers and set up an alarm system of cans around her shelter, but Casey is now slipping in and out of consciousness.

In her eighteen years, Casey has learned that dreams only ever bring her grief, causing old wounds to reopen. Now, as she drifts asleep, memories flash before her eyes—they are so clear, so lucid that she swears that she is actually there again.

 _She's sitting next to her Daddy on the pier, their feet dangling over the dock. She's not afraid of darkening sky overhead or of the tumultuous waves crashing around her ankles—she feels safe with him._

 _He grins down at her as she throws out her fishing line. He got her a toy fishing rod for her birthday. He wasn't expecting her to catch anything in this weather, but he took her anyways._

 _She's leans her head onto his shoulder as she waits for a fish to bite._

 _She doesn't want this memory to fade… It's her happiest one._

 _He looks down at her and he gently pulls at one of her brown curls. She looks up at him and smiles._

 _She feels the memory fade and Casey wills her mind to stop it from vanishing._

 _Then, almost instantly a new memory snaps into place._

 _Her Daddy is holding a small puppy out to her, a big red bow on the dog's neck. She cradles the puppy into her arms and giggles as the dog licks her face and yaps happily. She plops down onto the floor, not letting go of the dog. She begins to cry. Her Daddy sits next to hear and he must know she's crying because she's so happy because as she presses her head against him, he chuckles and asks her what she wants to name the dog._

 _"Hunter."_

 _She can hear the low rumble of his laughter vibrating in his chest, and she smiles through her tears._

 _Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. Her ear is against his chest and she hears his heart beating._

 _Home is where the heart is and for Casey, home is with her Daddy. It doesn't matter where they are—in a tent on a hunting trip, in their small home, in a motel… anywhere._

 _A few months later, she found his body and she pressed her ear against his chest, ignoring the frantic police and paramedics around her. She willed his heart to keep beating. She didn't want him to leave her. Don't leave me alone she begged. But she didn't hear anything in return and then she was pulled away from his corpse. She began to sob._

 _This memory is now fading. Her Daddy is gone. In his place a new memory is forming._

 _She can hear his heavy footsteps approaching the bed. She squeezes her eyes shut and shuffles further under the bed._

 _"Casey-Bear," Her Uncle is calling her name. He's right outside the bedroom._

 _She knows he will find her. He always does. Tears begin to form in her eyes. Her hands begin to shake and her breathing is becoming shallow._

 _She hears the bedroom door squeak open. He's in the bedroom now._

 _"Caseyyyy," he singsongs. His voice is sweet as honey, smooth as syrup, but Casey knows better. She doesn't want his sugary words and smiles because she knows from experience that they aren't real._

 _He tries to be like her Daddy, but he isn't. It's wrong what he does. She knows that it's not right._

 _She sees his feet next to the bed, and she knows that she's been found. There aren't many places to hide._

 _"Casey, stop hiding. Are you crying? Come and give your Uncle a hug."_

 _She sees his arms reach towards her and she screams._

* * *

"Sophia, sweetie. Are you in there?"

Casey jolts awake, tears fresh on her face.

"Sophia, it's mommy," the voice continues. "Sophia. We're all here, baby. It's mommy."

Casey can't tell if she's awake or asleep. Maybe this is just another dream. She can't remember what had happened last. She just remembers the dreams. Her head is throbbing, and there is an acidic taste in her dry mouth.

There's someone outside the tent and she wants to move but her body feels like led and her legs aren't quite yet ready to cooperate.

Her hand slowly reaches for her knife next to her pillow, but her fingers feel heavy. She remembers throwing her riffle across the tent from her and Casey curses for being so was stupid last night. She isn't prepared.

She hears the tent zipper slowly open and she's truly awake now. She's gripping her knife tightly now, but she waits until she sees a figure entering her tent to move from her resting position.

"Soph—

Before the intruder can get the whole word out, Casey is leaping upwards with her knife ready to slash.

"Fuckin' Christ!"

A dirty hand grabs hers in an iron grip, stopping the knife from slashing his throat. She hears a chorus of panicked voices from outside the tent, but she can only concentrate on the sudden pull she feels from her attacker. She feels weak and breathless, and Casey immediately freezes, knowing that struggling to break his grip will do nothing, not when his grip is so strong. For a second, her brown eyes met his steel-blue eyes, and Casey can tell that he's surprised to see her. Well, that made two of them—she hasn't seen a living person for a while now, not since her Uncle died. She doesn't react when he wrenches the knife from her hand. She's learned not to struggle against someone stronger. She has to be smarter, not stronger.

 _"You be a good girl, Casey. Be still, and don't give me any trouble."_ Her Uncle's voice reverberates in her thoughts as she stares into a pair of steel blue eyes. Her skin is crawling with the memory of her Uncle's hands on her. _"It's almost over…"_

She tries to control her desperate, ragged breathing. She's feeling faint, and she isn't sure if it's the man or the fever. She's pressed up against his chest and she can hear the man moving his lips and he must be saying something but there is only a faint ringing in her ears.

"Are you hearin' what I'm sayin', girl?"

When she doesn't respond the man snorts in derision, "you deaf?"

He pulls her out of the tent, grabbing her riffle and Casey can see that there are a few people outside. She blinks up at them, still unsteady on her feet because of her weak ankle. If the man weren't gripping her arm she would probably fall.

There's a man dressed in a sheriffs outfit and he quickly steps towards them.

"Daryl, you're scaring her."

"Whatever," Daryl snorts and with those words Casey is released from his iron grip. She stumbles forward, falling to her knees in front of the whole group. Immediately she is being helped onto her feet by the sheriff.

It's a big group, but they don't look dangerous, even though some of them are armed. There's a woman who is sobbing into the shoulder of pretty brunette and there's a young boy with the group. An Asian boy around her age, probably older, is looking curiously at her and a blonde woman is staring at her with sympathy. Another man is staring are her carefully, and Casey supposes she must look terrified. Her brown eyes wide as saucers, her dark hair matted, tangled… she probably looked like a deer in headlights.

"Sorry. We didn't mean to intrude or scare you. I'm Rick" The sheriff is holding is hand out to Casey and slowly extents her own hand to grip his.

"Casey."

"We are so sorry to have scared you Casey, but please, please…. have you seen my daughter?" The hysterical woman is now standing in front of Casey, eyes bloodshot and desperate.

"I, um… no. No one." Casey stutters out, feeling the weight of the groups' eyes on her, "sorry," she adds, feeling a pang of empathy for the woman who must have lost her child. She also wonders if the blue-eyed man is the girl's Daddy. Her own Daddy would have stopped at nothing to protect her, she's sure of it.

"You alone here?" The sheriff asks as the brunette woman pulls the mother into an embrace.

Casey just shrugs, trusting that he's not dangerous, but not wanting to give away too much information.

"We ain't got time for this. We're loosing daylight, an' we ain't gonna find Sophia at this rate. Let's go. She knows nothin'… sleepin' through the fuckin' apocalypse. We don't need dead weight—

The mother lets out a sob at Daryl's words and Casey feels a spark of anger at the redneck. She's been surviving on her own and she doesn't need him telling her she's dead weight. He knows nothing about her.

"Daryl." Rick says sharply cutting Daryl off and Daryl falls silent, eyes narrowing at Casey.

"Give Casey her weapons back," Rick commands Daryl before turning back to her, "sorry for the intrusion. Now, if you don't have a group, you are welcome to join us. We were on our way to Fort Benning, but we lost a member of the group, so we're gonna find her and be on our way."

Daryl looks like wants to argue with Rick's invitation, but he doesn't say anything. He just scowls as he tosses the riffle and knife at her feet.

"We don't want to leave you here without knowing that you'll be safe," the brunette woman adds before Casey can say anything.

It's a kind thing to say Casey thinks, but she just says, "Uh, no, thanks. I'm just gonna try my luck here."

"Are you sure, Casey?" Rick asks, "There's safety in numbers, and I can promise you, not one of us will try and hurt you."

He sounds sincere and Casey wants to believe him.

"Besides, you won't be able to hear Daryl tell his jokes if you don't come with us. You don't really want to miss that." The Asian boy adds, sending Casey a small grin.

For a second, Casey stares disbelievingly at the Asian, only to realize that he's joking, and from the death glare Daryl is sending him, he doesn't find it funny.

"Uh… I…" Casey trails off as she looks around the group again as she begins to gather her weapons. They have kind, worried faces, but she has learned that appearances can be deceiving. But she's tired and she knows that she needs help. She hasn't slept properly since her Uncle was bitten. Insomnia. Stress. Sickness. She still feels weak, like she can pass out any second now.

Maybe they can help her, if she helps them.

"I can find her." Casey blurts out, "I mean, I can try and track her," she adds quickly, not wanting to give the group false hope. "If you show me where you saw her last, even with the rain, maybe I can—

"Oh, yeah?" Daryl snaps confrontationally, "what you know bout' trackin'?"

Casey takes a quick look at Daryl, realizing that he has a crossbow in his arms now. He's holding it with authority and ease. The crossbow is not pointed at her, but she's sure that he can discharge an arrow through her skull without hesitation. He knows how to use it, just like her Uncle knew how. He probably knew how to hunt and track, like her Daddy, but Casey knows that she is also capable. She still remembers like it was yesterday what her father told her on their very first hunting trip together.

 _"When your aiming Casey, always keep both eyes open. Cover your target with the barrel. Then move with it to get its pace. I'm warning you, it's gonna be frustrating the first times. You're gonna shoot under it or behind it. You'll learn to stay with it," he said as he handed Casey his riffle._

 _"The females are smarter than the males. But you know that. It's like humans," he grinned down at her and she had laughed at his words._

 _"Females use their nose to stay alive. They make sure they have cover. They always remember they're trying to stay alive. Bucks go off by themselves. Bucks get dumb during mating season."_

 _"Boys make too much noise," she giggled._

 _"Yes they do."_

 _"I'm better than a boy, right?" he had asked, looking up at him._

 _"Yes, yes, you are," he told her, and even years later, she can still picture exactly what it looked like to see love inside his dark brown eyes._

"Probably more than you." Casey snaps back at Daryl, annoyed at his disparaging tone. Her Daddy taught her plenty about hunting and tracking. She was her father's daughter and she knew how to survive. She **had** to survive and she knew that this group was her best chance.

Anger and disbelief flashes in Daryl's eyes, but before he can make any other comment, Rick interrupts, "we appreciate any help. I'll introduce you properly to everyone once we get you packed up. You've already spoken to Carol, Lori, Glenn… and Daryl."

* * *

Introductions are made hastily as Rick and Shane help Casey disassemble and pack away her tent. The rest of her belongings are already stashed away in her backpack. It takes them probably five minutes at the most, but according to Daryl's snide remarks, they've been packing for at least an hour.

"Are you from around here?" Lori asks Casey as she helps her shrug on her backpack.

"I grew up a couple of towns over. I used to go hunting around these areas though."

"So you know how to use that gun?" Rick asks, shrugging at her hunting riffle.

Casey tries a weak attempt at a joke, "maybe even better than you, sheriff."

The faint sound of bells interrupts their conversation. Immediately the whole group is on edge, looking frantically around for the source of the noise.

"What direction?" Shane asks, trying to pinpoint the sound of the ringing bells.

"I think that way— I'm pretty sure." Rick says, pointing straight ahead, already starting to run towards the source.

"Damn, it's hard to tell out here," Shane grunts as the rest of the group catches up to him and Rick.

"Rick's right—there's a church a little bit further down from here. I've walked past it a few times. I know the way" Casey chimes in, hoping to be helpful.

"If we hear them, maybe Sofia did too," Carol adds hopefully.

"Someone's ringing those bells… maybe calling others," Glenn suggests.

"I don't think so. They ring constantly. It's probably a timer," Casey says quickly, pushing to the front of the group so she can lead them to the church.

"Come on, let's go" Rick says, taking the lead along side Casey.

They sprint towards the church, her in the lead along side Daryl, Shane and Rick. She still feels weak on her ankle, but the excitement and adrenalin is pushing her forwards.

She's hasn't gone into the church even though she's walked past it numerous times. There are supplies in there, she is sure and she doesn't believe in the God her father had. Casey's not religious, but she figures if there is a God, he has a lot of explaining to do. After all, she thinks, what kind of God allows innocent kids to suffer at the mercy of monsters masquerading as saints? What kind of God would let her mother die in childbirth and let her Daddy die in her arms, only a few years later?

Rick signals to the group that there are zombies inside. Casey draws her knife, ready to enter the church, but Daryl pushes her back behind him. She takes note of his eyes again—they are stone blue, cold and almost criticizing in appearance as they lock with her eyes. She's held her own against the Dead with just a knife, but she doesn't argue as he hands her his crossbow and takes her knife into the church to dispose of the zombies with Shane and Rick.

 _Crunch. Crunch. Crunch._ Casey wants to close her eyes and ignore the sound of skulls cracking, but she keeps her eyes trained on the men as they hack away at the zombies.

"Yo, J.C., you taking requests?" Daryl asks the icon in the center of the church after they have cleared the church.

"I'm telling you, it's the wrong church. It's got no steeple, Rick." Shane says in a hushed tone.

"This the only church in the vicinity?" Rick asks her.

Casey quietly nods her head, tucking a strand of dark brown hair back behind her ear where it had fallen from, "like I said, I think it's on a tim—

But, her words are cut snort as the bells begin to ring again and the group rushes towards the source of the sound.

She sees Glenn disabling the timer as Daryl grunts, "A timer. It's on a timer. Girls right."

"I'm gonna go back in for a bit." Carol mummers.

Casey immediately feels the group dynamic shift—exhaustion and disappointment are beginning to settle in.

Lori follows Carol into the church, Andrea peels off, and Casey, not knowing where else to go follows Daryl to a nearby tree. She is still gripping his crossbow.

Before she even walks a few yards, she sees a zombie stumbling from out of the forest. There's only one of them, and Daryl is already striding towards it with her knife, but instinct causes her to raise the crossbow and take aim.

 _Thunk_. The arrow lodges in his throat so Casey takes aim again. With a satisfying crunch, the arrow shoots through the zombie's skull. She's a little rusty and the crossbow is too heavy for her, but it's a pretty good shot and she's grinning. Daryl's facial expression wipes the grin off of her face immediately. He grumbles something under his breath as he retrieves the two arrows before stomping over to her.

"Mind puttin' _my_ weapon down?!" Daryl barks at her as he goes to yank the crossbow out of her arms.

"You're the one who left me with it and no other weapon." Casey grumbles, but releases the crossbow without struggle.

"It's a nice bow," she adds, hoping to soften him up—he's obviously protective of the weapon.

That seems to do the trick because Daryl just shrugs.

"S' alright" Daryl concedes, "where'd ya learn to shoot like that any how."

A small sense of accomplishment sneaks up on Casey.

"My Uncle," she answers, "he hunted with the crossbow."

"He round here or you really on your own?"

"Uh-huh," she affirms, not really wanting to talk about how she wound up alone.

"How old are you anyways?" Daryl asks, giving a look over.

Casey slightly flushes at his gaze.

"I'm eighteen."

 _I was supposed to be free when I turned eighteen_ , she wants to say. She was seventeen when the apocalypse struck. She had two more weeks until graduation and four more weeks until her birthday. She would have finally been able to leave her Uncle's home. Instead, she stayed a prisoner.

She didn't feel free when he was bitten. She didn't even feel free when she took a knife and jammed it into his eye. He was dead, but he was still with her.

Daryl squints down at her, "you really know how to track an' hunt?"

"Uh-huh," Casey affirms again.

"Alright," Daryl says as he starts to walk towards the rest of the group who is already gathering together.

"Aright," Casey echoes, and then asks, "you really know how to track too?" as she catches up with him.

He shoots her a disbelieving look, "you _sassin_ ' me, girl?"

"Just asking…"

He rolls his, muttering something under his breath as Shane and Rick begin to discuss logistics with the group.

"Ahem. Y'all gonna follow the creek bed back, okay? Daryl, you're in charge. Me and Rick, we're just gonna hang back, search this area another hour or so just to be thorough." Shane says, eying the group.

"And Casey, why don't you stay here with us—you could let us know if you see any prints that could be Sophia's." Rick adds.

"You're splitting us up, you sure?" Daryl questions.

"Yeah, we'll catch up to you." Shane responds.

Casey agrees with Daryl, but she just nods.

"I want to stay too," Carl suddenly says, looking at his Dad, "I'm her friend."

"Just be careful, okay?" Lori says after a long pause, and Carl nods, happy to be staying with his Dad.

After a couple of goodbyes, the group splits up, and Casey is left standing with Shane, Rick and Carl.

"Give me a minute," Rick says, looking at Shane.

His friend nods, and now Casey is left to sit with Shane and Carl on the church steps.

"You want me to check around the church?" Casey asks Shane.

"Nah. When Rick comes back we'll walk around together."

After that exchange, the three of them settle into silence. Casey prefers this. She's never been the loud, talkative one.

Instead, her mind drifts to one of the last days of classes before the upcoming graduation.

 _"Casey Cooke…" Mr. Hall, her history teacher, addresses her in a restrained tone that Casey is used to hearing from each and every one of her teachers, "we are dividing into groups of four now for the project, and I don't see you moving."_

 _"I think I'm going to work by myself, if that's okay." Casey responds, her voice controlled, flat, and quiet._

 _She glances up at Mr. Hall who is standing across from her, his arms crossed, brow furrowed._

 _Her classmates are rolling their eyes and giving each other pointed looks. She can hear the stifled laughs around the room._

 _Mr. Hall clears his throat and his gaze hardens._

 _"No. That's not "okay." We are dividing into groups now, Casey," he repeats, uncrossing his arms as he leans into her._

 _The chatter in the room dies down to a mummer. No longer are the students gossiping about teachers and parties. Her classmates are sending each other glances and nudging each other—they are familiar with this routine. Casey does this at least once a week. Usually, it doesn't take long for her to be kicked out of class…10 minutes maximum._

 _"I don't really see the point of "dividing into groups," I'll finish faster without a group," Casey says nonchalantly, shrugging._

 _"Finish her, Mr. Hall!" Brendon coughs into his fist and the rest of the students erupt into another fit of laughter._

 _"Just don't put her into our group, please," Julia mutters and the whole class snickers._

 _Casey isn't affected by her classmates' mockery and vicious whispers. She's used to the occasional jabs at her expense. Some insults hurt more than others. She doesn't mind when she hears a girl make a comment about the fact that her eyes are set too far apart. She doesn't react when a classmate laughs at her outfits…"who would wear a long sleeved shirt in this summer heat... Other insults sting a little more—the ones about her family._

 _Mr. Hall glares disapprovingly around the room._

 _"Silence," he hisses at the students and the room falls silent immediately._

 _Mr. Hall leans shifts his weight onto his hells, and then rocks forward. He is furious._

 _"Miss Cooke, I am not playing this game again. Not today. Either you find a group or you walk out of the classroom and go directly to Principal O' Connor's office. It's your choice."_

 _Casey just shrugs and begins to pack up her things, "Alright."_

 _"Casey Cooke!" Mr. Hall barks in fury, "You have done nothing but disrupt my classroom since you arrived this morning. Leave your stuff."_

 _"You're gonna make me leave my stuff because I wanted to work alone?"_

 _"No. You have an issue with authority and you need to be taught respect. I'm giving you another chance—get into a group"_

 _Casey scoffs, "I'm not gonna join a fucking group. I'm going directly to Principal O'Connor's office, just like you said."_

 _"What is her problem," she hears Julia whisper, "she's got issues."_

 _Mr. Hall eyes widen as Casey grabs begins to gather her things into her backpack._

 _"Tell Principal O'Connor that you have today and on Saturday. For 2 weeks," Mr. Hall spits out coldly, "Now, get out of my classroom."_

 _"That's what I was trying to do," Casey mutters as she slings her backpack over her shoulder, slamming the door as she leaves the classroom._

 _As soon as she exits the classroom, she walks to the restroom where she sinks to the floor, closing her eyes, trying to calm her breathing. She's relieved._

 _She has Saturday detention and that means she won't have to spend the weekend with her Uncle._

Her thoughts are interrupted when she hears Rick approaching them.

"Get what you needed?" Shane asks

"Guess I'll find out."

With that, the four of them begin to walk into the forest.

* * *

There are no tracks to follow as they head deeper into the forest. Casey hopes that Daryl is having better luck than her… maybe they ran into Sophia on the way back to the highway. But Casey sees things like they are, not how she would want them to be. She has an honest perspective of the world. They probably aren't going to find Sophia… at least not alive.

"Did you go to school around here?" Carl asks her as they continue walking.

"Nope." Casey answers, eyes looking around, constantly searching any clue as to where Sophia went.

"Neither did I. This is kinda far from my home. Did you live around here?" Carl continues.

"Not far."

Casey senses that the kids trying to make conversation, but she's too focused on the search to throw him a bone.

"I saw you shoot that walker with Daryl's crossbow. That was pretty cool. You think you can teach me?"

"It's Daryl's crossbow. You should ask him."

Carl grimaces, "He's kinda scary."

"And I'm not?" Casey chuckles, throwing the kid a smile.

Carl grins up at her. "Nah, not really."

"Well, if I find a crossbow of my own, I'll teach you. You know how to shoot a gun?"

Carl whips his head back to where Rick is trailing behind them and then whispers to Casey, "He won't teach me. You think you could teach me that too?"

She doesn't want to make promises she can't keep, but he looks so eager.

"Yeah. I can teach you that too. My Daddy taught me to shoot when I was younger than you and I bet that you're gonna be a better shot that me."

Carl's smile is infectious and she finds herself smiling back at him.

When they hear a rustling in the bushes, she is immediately on alert, pulling her riffle into position.

The buck they see is gorgeous. She wants to pull the trigger. The shot might be worth the noise. They could use the food. If only she had Daryl's crossbow. Maybe she could find one for herself somewhere and then she could actually teach Carl how to shoot.

Rick stills her hand as Carl slowly approaches the buck.

His wonder and excitement makes Casey's mouth turn up in a smile. Her and Rick exchange a grin at Carl's delight.

 _Bang._

The gunshot is loud and clear.

Casey's smile fades as she sees the boy crumple.


	2. Chapter 2

She wants to say that she regrets volunteering to go with Shane and Otis for medical supplies for Carl, but she doesn't regret it, not really.

When her Uncle died, she only had to look out for herself and never in a million years would she have wandered into the school building that was swarming with zombies to get _anything_. But, for some reason she had a lapse in judgment and decided to follow Shane and Otis into the death trap. But it's worth the risk she thinks. If they didn't try, Carl would have no chance at surviving. Now, it seems that it's them that have no chance at surviving.

"Those windows, what's on the other side?" Shane grunts at Otis as they shuffle along the edge of the bleachers, avoiding the outstretched arms of the Dead.

"About a 20-foot drop with nothing to catch you, maybe some bushes. Then the athletic field." Otis answers.

Casey doesn't say anything. Her hand is gripping her knife and she's trying to figure out a way to save them.

"We just need enough time. We got to get up there. We got to get 'em windows open and get out." Shane says as he points at the gym windows. They look narrow. She can fit through them. Maybe Shane. Definitely not Otis.

"Not me. Maybe you. Girl can fit." Otis answers, speaking aloud Casey's thoughts.

"Hey, hey, hey."

"Come on, Shane. You really think he can squeeze through one of those tiny windows? They'd be all over us." Casey snaps, not in the mood to sugarcoat the situation.

"She's right. Listen. You two stay here. I'll distract them and draw them away. That will give you two to get up to the bleachers and out a window." Otis explains.

"And where do you go?" Shane asks.

"Locker room. Down those steps."

"Looks like a good way to get trapped," Shane contests.

"Yeah well that window is too," Casey mutters as she places a hand on Shane's arm, urging him to see reason.

"I'll double back and we will meet on the field."

"You're a crazy son of a bitch, ain't you," Shane asks Otis in amazement.

"Just trying to do right for that boy."

"I'll take your backpack. You'll need to move faster than us," Casey suggests.

"You take three shots and you go. After that I fire. Casey and I will lay down a cover for you. I'll get you a lead." Shane says.

"All right."

Otis nods at the two of them, hands Casey the backpack and then begins to shoot. Shane takes over and Otis jumps down, making his way towards the doors. She begins to walk across the bleachers to the windows.

Casey almost chokes on her breath as she sees Otis trip, squirming away from a zombie. She's distracted and she stumbles over an uneven portion of the walkway. Her weak ankle gives out and she slips.

"Ahh!"

Shane reacts instantly to her fall. His gun was pointed at the zombie crawling towards Otis but he immediately shifts focus and begins shooting at the zombies ready to swarm her. His hand outstretches to meet her's and he yanks her back up. Then, he addresses the zombie near Otis.

She and Shane manage to clear enough of the zombies, allowing Otis to run through the gym door towards the locker rooms.

Shane gives her a slight shove towards the bleachers and the windows and they begin to run.

"Cover me," he commands.

Casey doesn't hesitate as she aims at the zombies stumbling towards them, disposing of them quickly. There's so many of them, even with Otis creating a diversion. She's firing rounds left and right. Shane doesn't look back at them as he breaks the glass on the window.

Shane tosses the backpacks, full of supplies out the window. The drop is exactly like Otis described it. There's only a bush to break their fall.

"I'm gonna jump first. Then you are gonna jump when I say so. I'll break your fall, all right?"

She nods at him. She might not know Shane very well, but he just saved her life. She trusts him enough to break her fall. She hands him her riffle to toss down with the rest of their equipment.

He clambers up on the window edge, sits on the ledge, feet dangling out of the window, sending her a sarcastic smile over his shoulder and then clambers out of the window. A second later she hears a grunt. She rushes to the window. He seems fine. She only hears a slight second grunt as he gets up and then he calls to her, "alright darlin' do exactly what I did. I'm gonna catch you. Jump!"

She exhales and mimics his movements. Her feet are dangling out of the window. She turns so that her back is towards Shane, hands gripping the ledge. She's fully out of the window now.

She is about to let go when she feels two cold arms clawing at her shirt. The zombie is holding her in midair, her shirt tangled in its arms. The shirt zips slowly.

"CASEY!"

She tries to punch the zombie, but it doesn't let go. She tries again but her feet have no foothold. There's no power to her movements. Muscle memory kicks in and she grasps her knife from the sheath attached to her belt. With all her might Casey lodges the knife it the monster's eye. The movement is awkward but it's enough. She feels the hands loosen and then she's falling towards the ground.

She screams before she hits the ground.

She feels the wind leave her body as two arms grip around her body. She's panting but she must have landed on Shane because she feels him grunt beneath her, arms still wound around her. He did after all break her fall.

"Augh." Shane groans, grasping his ankle. They are still tangled together and as she moves away from him he groans again.

"Jesus, you alright?"

Her imperfect jump must have caused him to sprain his ankle.

Gunshots in the distance interrupt his answer.

"I'm fine," he grunts, standing up and gathering their belongings.

Her and Shane stumble towards the field. His movements are slower than her own. He's hurt and both of them are weighed down by their backpacks. Her ankle is still injured, but it's better than what Shane is dealing with. He leans heavily on her as he fires shots at the zombies.

"Son of a bitch," Shane exhales as they stumble into a fence with the zombies pushing against it, threatening to spill over, "I'm out of rounds."

Casey ignores the weight he's putting on her and begins to fire at three approaching figures. The last one falls without her shot. Otis is standing in front of them. What a _fucking_ hero, Casey thinks.

"Man, I thought I lost you." Otis screams over the noise at them.

"Shane is out of rounds," Casey explains as she hands the backpack over to Otis.

"Mine are almost out too."

"I don't think I have many left either," Casey says. She also doesn't have her knife—it's lodged in some dead man's eye.

Shane continues leaning on her as they limp towards the field all together.

They aren't even at the field when Otis stops. He's panting behind them. Even with Shane's weak ankle Otis cannot keep up.

"Otis, please, come on," Casey murmurs to him.

"Just let me catch my breath."

"Come on!" Shane commands.

They keep stumbling along the field. Shane's weight is now transferred fully to her. She's tall for her age, but she's skinny and she own ankle is starting to throb again. But if Otis were holding Shane, they would never make it to the truck. So, she keeps moving. She walks a few more yards before she stumbles.

"Ah!" Casey squeaks as Shane collapses onto her.

"We got to get to the street, double back to the truck," Otis pants as she catches up to them. He pulls Casey up.

"Look, we ain't gonna make it, okay," Shane gasps.

"Got to try, man. Come on, get up," Otis coaxes.

"Casey, you're gonna take these bags, and you're gonna go with Otis. Go to the truck."

"I'm not leaving you," Casey yells at the same time Otis cries, "I ain't leaving you behind!"

Shane is the reason she's alive. He also broke her fall—she's the reason his ankle is wrecked.

Shane pounds the cement before nodding in affirmation. Otis helps him up.

"How many rounds you got left?" Shane asks Otis.

"Four. You Casey?"

She checks. "Six."

Their break is interrupted by the snarls and growls of the zombies.

Casey swears under her breath as all three of begin stumbling away from the herd. She should leave them and run ahead with the supplies towards the truck, but they would die without her help. She doesn't owe Otis anything but she owes Shane at least a chance at survival.

So, she turns towards the herd and begins to shoot. Shane and Otis are firing rounds at the zombies too but they are far too slow. They aren't gonna make it she realizes and she's running out of rounds.

"I'm down to my last," she gasps.

"Me too." Otis answers.

All of a sudden she feels Shane grip her arm. She looks up at him in surprise, "Shane…?"

"We ain't gonna make it," He tells her. He's gripping her arm so tightly it hurts.

"I gotta save Carl, Casey and you can't carry both bags to the truck. It's a two-man job. I gotta do this."

He shrugs of his backpack, shoving it into her arms and then he jerks her riffle out her arms and she's too surprised to protest. Then he aims behind her and hears Otis scream out in pain. She gasps as she realizes that Shane shot Otis. Otis is on the ground, grabbing his leg and screaming in agony.

Her vision blurs. She feels empty inside.

She sees Shane running over to Otis. She drops the backpack and begins to walk over to where Shane and Otis are fighting. She sees them struggling. Shane is grabbing at Otis' backpack and Otis is clawing at Shane's face. The herd is gaining on the two of them.

"LET GO OF ME! LET GO!" She hears Shane screaming.

"I'll kill you!" Otis shouts, clawing at Shane.

She feels numb as she stumbles over to the two men. She knew she needed to remain as calm as possible and keep her head clear. She needed to be smart like a doe — cautious and clever, focused on staying alive. She knows the struggle is not going to end well if it continued at this rate. The herd is only a couple of feet away. She mumbles, "Otis, I'm sorry," and then she hits him with Shane's empty gun.

Otis falls backwards and Shane is staring up at her in surprise. Then everything is a blur. They're grabbing the backpacks and stumbling towards where the truck should be. She doesn't want to look back. Shane is turning his head though. She just hears the ripping of flesh behind her. Shane is constantly looking backwards. She feels tears falling from her eyes, but she continues firing at zombies that appear in front of her and Shane. He's carrying both backpacks and he's stumbling from the weight but they make it to the truck. They move quickly, throwing the supplies into the back of the truck. They clamber into the truck and then Shane begins to drive.

Shane is driving the truck faster than she thought possible. She is gripping her armrest tighter than she thought humanly possible. Occasionally he looks over at her, eyes wild.

"Your shirt…" He mutters, looking at her sideways.

She stares up at him, not understanding. Then she looks down at herself. Her shirt is bloodied and ripped. It's hanging off of one shoulder. She quickly tries to adjust her shirt, but the zombie's grip ripped and stretched out her shirt so it falls back down again. Her bra is visible and so are her scars. When she looks down, she can see the scars just bellow her collarbone. Her body is like a map of her uncle's sickness. The worst of her wounds are invisible though.

"Grab the jacket from the backseat," Shane says, not slowing down or looking at her.

She's not scared of him. She's known him for less than a day but she's already picked up on the fact that he cares for Lori and Carl. He saved her too. There's something dark inside of Shane. She's not one to judge—there's something dark inside of her too. She grabs the jacket. It's big on her but it covers her scars. She closes her eyes.

When they reach the farm she sees Lori and Rick exiting the home, faces desperate.

"Carl?" Shane asks breathlessly, as they climb out of the truck.

"There's still a chance." Rick answers, gratitude clear on his face.

"Otis?" Hershel asks.

Shane hesitates so Casey answers for him, "No."

"We say nothing to Patricia. Not until after the operation. I need her." With those words Hershel goes back inside, but not before grabbing their supplies.

Rick embraces Shane, but Casey notices that Shane's eyes are on Lori. Rick then turns to Casey, embracing her. She stiffens at his touch, but doesn't push him away.

"They kept blocking us at every turn. We had nothing left. Between the three of us we were down to 10 rounds. Then he said he'd cover both me. And that we should keep going. Casey lost her knife. We were desperate. So that's what we did. I just kept going… I just… I looked back and he… we tried," Shane explains, voice cracking at every sentence.

Casey doesn't say anything. If that's what Shane wants to tell the group, she's not gonna say anything to contradict him.

"He wanted to make it right," Rick says, embracing Shane again.

Shane is pale and he begins to lean on her again. She walks them over to the truck, helping him lean again the hood.

"Thanks," he mutters, eyes closed.

"Thanks," she echoes, hoping he understands what she's thanking him for.

Eyes still closed he nods.

They stand in silence for a while. Rick and Lori are sitting on the porch and a black man who introduces himself as T-Dog sits on the porch rocking chair.

What seems like hours later Hershel announces that Carl has stabilized. She feels Shane exhale next to her, a sob leaving this throat. She feels a relief wash over her as well. She will make sure that Carl gets his crossbow lesson. She sees Rick and Lori embrace Hershel.

"I don't have words…" Lori cries.

"I don't either. Wish I did. How do I tell Patricia about Otis,"

Shane locks eyes with her but Casey quickly looks away. She sees Glenn exit the house and she tries to smile at him as he waves to her.

"You stay with Carl. I'll go with Hershel," Rick says to Lori.

She helps Shane peel away from the truck, leading him up the porch steps and then leaving him to follow Lori and Rick into the house. She doesn't want to go in yet… she doesn't want to hear Patricia's sobs as she learns about the death of her husband.

Instead, she stands outside, looking out at the fields.

"The showers upstairs. I bought you some clothes," a dark-haired woman interrupts Casey's peace, "you're the same size Beth is. My sister. I'm Maggie."

"Thank you," Casey says. She takes the bundle of clothes, grimacing slightly at the color choice, but it's better than her ripped shirt and stained jeans. She hasn't showered in what feels like months… probably even longer. She stumbles up the stairs towards the shower. There's even shampoo, conditioner and a razor.

The water heats up in a few minutes, just enough time for Casey to nervously strip off the remainder of her clothes, including her bloodied t-shirt. The door doesn't lock but everyone else is downstairs. She wonders if Shane had seen what lay beneath when her torn shirt. Surely he had; it was impossible to miss without her usual layers and he made a comment about her shirt in the car. He didn't mention the scars. Maybe it was too dark out or maybe he was too busy driving the truck. She doesn't think he would mention it to anybody—he's dealing with his own demons. When she looks down, she can see the scars at her lower belly and hips. She closes her eyes and let's the water wash away the dirt and blood. She almost feels human again. She smiles.

* * *

Daryl wasn't surprised to see the new girl standing with the rest of the group to greet him, Andrea, Dale, and Carol. He figured she would be alive. He _was_ surprised to see what she was wearing.

When he first ripped open her tent, she was frozen helplessly in his line of sight, like a deer caught in headlights. She was wearing a lot of layers, especially in the summer heat—dark jeans, black running sneakers, and a dark long sleeved with a hoodie. Now, she was wearing a bright yellow, floral blouse and white jeans. Even in sweltering heat she had a large jacket on. It looked like Shane's jacket, and that made Daryl frown… he didn't particularly like the asshole. She was still wearing her running shoes though. He noticed that her ankle was wrapped and that she was gripping her riffle too. She looked ridiculous, but her hair was clean and there was no longer any dirt on her face. She looked nice.

When she noticed his stare, she flushed pink and then mouthed, "I know," at him, gesturing at her outfit and rolling her eyes. She tilted her head slightly towards a young, blonde as if to say it's her fault. Then he lost sight of her as Dale walked over to her to introduce himself.

He had wandered over to where Shane and Rick were talking. He was also surprised to find out from Rick that she had gone with Shane and Otis to obtain the supplies Hershel needed to operate on Carl. He overheard Shane telling Rick in hushed tones what had happened at the school. According to Shane the girl could shoot well and use a knife—she was an asset to their group. She wasn't dead weight.

So, at Otis' funeral he noticed her again. When Patricia asked her to say something about Otis her eyes had widened and she froze helplessly again, like a deer caught in headlights. Her eyes had darted towards Shane and the man immediately spoke instead of her, calling Otis a hero. He didn't really care, but that had made him frown again. After the funeral he had returned back to the RV to sort through the group's weapons.

He immediately noticed her presence, head snapping towards the quiet noises of her arrival. Casey's seemed a little surprised to see him back at the RV, and he was just as surprised to see her suddenly appear in front of him. There was a moment of awkward silence before the girl decided to step forward.

"Hey."

"Hey." Daryl responded with forced casualness. For some reason, he felt like it sounded weird when he said it.

"Sorry, are you working on something? I don't want to get in your way or anything." Casey said as she glanced around him at the tools, guns, knifes, and numerous weapons.

"Nah, jus' finished."

He had looked up at her from his spot on the dirt floor.

"Mind if I sit? I'm kinda of trying to kill some time," Casey said, shifting a little closer to him as she spoke.

"Go ahead," He answered with a small nod and Casey had set her riffle down before sitting down beside him on the floor, pulling her legs under her to sit crisscrossed. She obviously wasn't heeding Hershel's no gun policy.

"You avoidin' laundry duty or somethin'?"

"I found more rounds for my riffle—Rick had some. But I need a knife, my knife is somewhere jammed in a zombie's eye" she told him, ignoring his question, "Do you have anything you could spare?"

There's a bunch of knifes in front of him—Glenn found a lot of weaponry—but for some reason, he found himself handing her Merle's knife.

"It's on loan. Don't loose it…s' my brother's."

She looked at him, wide-eyed and nodded. "Alright."

"Alright," he echoed, standing up to go meet with Rick.

* * *

Everyone is grouped around a map of the area that Maggie provided.

"How long has the girl been lost?" Hershel asks.

"This'll be day three," Rick says, "The map is perfect. We can finally get this search organized. We'll grid the whole area, start searching in teams. "

"Not you. Not today," Hershel tells Rick, "you gave three units of blood. You wouldn't be hiking five minutes in this heat before passing out."

Hershel then turns his attention to Shane. "And your ankle—push it now, you'll be laid up a month, no good to anybody."

Daryl shrugs, "Alright. Guess it's just me. I'm gonna—

A little annoyed that she's not included in his search party plans Casey interrupts, "I'll go with you. I can—

"No. No you won't, your ankle is still weak," Shane cuts her off.

"It's fine," Casey dismisses, "it doesn't hurt anymore. It's not weak."

Shane is not her Daddy. He can't tell her what to do. He knows that she can handle herself. Rick between Shane and Casey, brow slightly furrowed and than at Daryl.

"It's your call, Daryl."

Casey bristles at the fact that someone is going to decide what she can or cannot do. She doesn't want to stay on the farm, cooped up with the rest of the group.

This morning, Casey had managed several small smiles for Beth and Patricia when they greeted her with breakfast, Advil, and an ankle wrap. Beth was actually pretty sweet, and so were Jimmy and Patricia. But they were just from a completely different world. And the thought of spending the day with them...that made her stomach tie in knots.

She looks back at Daryl, silently pleading with him to see reason.

"We'll head back to the creek, work our way from there," Daryl says to her, ignoring Shane and Rick.

She hears Shane swear and then sigh, "Alright. I'll drive up to the interstate, see if Sophia wandered back, maybe you should go with me."

"I know the area pretty well, I'll be more helpful with Daryl," she says.

"All right, tomorrow then. We'll start doing this right." Rick confirms.

"That means we can't have our people out there with just knives. They need the gun training we've been promising them," Shane tells Rick.

Casey notices Andrea nodding along with Shane. She agrees too. She's not giving up her riffle and she still remembers that she's promised Carl a shooting lesson.

"I'd prefer you not carrying guns on my property. We've managed so far without turning this into an armed camp " Hershel tells the group, looking around at them, eyes halting on her riffle.

"All due respect, you get a crowd of these things wandering in here— Shane begins to argue, but is interrupted by Rick.

"Look, we're guests here. This is your property. And we will respect that."

He places his gun on the hood of the truck. Shane grimaces but follows Rick's lead. Rick turns to her expectantly.

"It's a hunting riffle. It's for hunting. I'm going into the forest with Daryl soon anyways. I'll keep my riffle." Casey says.

"I hate to ask, but somebodies got to. What happens if we find her and she's bit?" Shane asks the group before Hershel can say anything about her riffle.

"I think we should all be clear on how we handle that," Casey says, nodding in agreement at Shane's question.

"You do what has to be done." Rick states, face grim.

"And her mother? What do you tell her?" Maggie exclaims in horror.

"The truth," Casey says, face just as grim as Rick's. She wants to scoff at Maggie's concern but she keeps her face neutral. This isn't the same world it used to be and it's about time that people face the reality of the situation. People get bit and turn into zombies. She doesn't miss the look that Maggie and Hershel exchange.

"I'll gather and secure all the weapons. I'll make sure no one's carrying till we're at a practice range off site," Rick says, addressing Hershel directly.

"I do request one rifleman on lookout. Dale and Casey have experience, I suggest Dale since Casey's gonna be searching for Sophia with Daryl. She'll return the riffle upon arrival," Shane tells Hershel.

Casey shakes her head. She's not about to part with her riffle just like that, but no one notices her reluctance to surrender her weapon.

"Our people would feel safer, less inclined to carry a gun…" Rick tells Hershel when he sees him hesitating.

Hershel nods, "One lookout."

The group disperses and she begins to walk away, following Daryl.

"We gonna start the search now," Daryl tells her as she catches up with him.

"Casey. Daryl." Rick calls after them.

"Will you two be okay on your own?"

"We'll do better on our own," Daryl states, "less people. We'll move faster."

"We'll be back before dark." Casey confirms.

"Hey." Rick calls after them again.

"We got a base. We can get this search properly organized now."

"You got a point or we just chatting," Daryl says, walking closer to Rick.

"My point is it lets you off the hook. Both of you. You don't owe us anything. You've already done enough for us, Daryl and what you did for Carl, Casey—

"My other plans fell through," Daryl cuts Rick off, storming away.

Casey throws one last look over her shoulder at Rick and then sprints after Daryl when he shouts, "You comin' or what?"


	3. Chapter 3

"We're gonna make a small detour first…I'll get us horses."

"A horse, Daryl? You know how to ride one?" She asked, looking at him skeptically as they made their way over to the farm stables.

He snorted at her skepticism. "You don't?"

She shook her head.

"Alright. We'll take one horse,"

Casey shrugged and followed him to the stables. She's didn't seem particularly gung-ho about taking a horse but she didn't contradict him. He wondered if maybe she just trusted him enough to let him decide their course of action. Or maybe she was just too meek to contradict him. For some unknown reason, he found himself irrationally annoyed at her compliance. Rationally, he knew that she probably agreed with the fact that taking a horse would be faster, more efficient, and she wasn't bothering him or even making an attempt to contradict him, which he normally preferred, but now it was making him irritated. She had no problem voicing her opinions to Shane and Rick earlier today about their travel plans and he found that he preferred when he saw a spark of annoyance, anger, anything but the usual indifference he noticed in her brown eyes.

"Wait here," Daryl commanded. He scowled as she shrugged again. He turned away from her as he walked to the stables. She hadn't even bothered asking him if Hershel knew that they were taking the horse without his permission.

"Just git on the horse," he grumbled when he returned with the animal. She threw him a questioning glance and Daryl rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath.

He felt her tense slightly as he pushed her gently towards the horse, eyes wide. Again, he felt annoyed at her behavior. Sometimes she acted like a scared child. He didn't understand—she knew how to shoot properly, she volunteered to go get supplies with Shane, and now she was going to go searching for Sophia with him. She didn't seem like the type to be frightened, and yet here she was, staring up at the horse with trepidation.

He scowled at her again, handed her his crossbow and mounted the horse. For a second he considered grabbing the crossbow and leaving her to go search for Sophia alone, but then he saw her stretch her arm out to him, looking at him expectantly, so he grasped her arm and pulled her onto the horse.

* * *

They rode in complete silence—she was gripping his shirt tightly, his crossbow slung around her back so she could hold him tightly. She seemed to trust that he knew where they are headed. She kept looking around her, eyes peeled for any abnormal movement. Initially he didn't bother even looking back at her.

He had to admit he was surprised when the first half hour passed and Casey still hadn't said a word to him. He found himself tilting his head slightly backwards so he could look at her, trying to figure her out, which he realized was actually not that easy. Her eyes were constantly scanning the area, searching for any sign of Sophia.

He heard her gasp slightly as the horse jerked in response to some birds flying of the bushes and she almost lost her balance, but her arms wound tighter around him, preventing her from falling.

"What, yer Daddy never taught you how to ride a horse?"

He was mocking her and he wasn't sure why he felt the need to do it—he hadn't expected her to know how to ride a horse properly.

She didn't move and she didn't look at him, ignoring his question, but he knew that his sudden inquiry had startled her—he heard her breath catch and her arms tensed around him. He didn't mean to say anything to her but her silence had been grating on his nerves. This revelation further aggravated him. He liked the fact that everyone in the group knew not to bother him with chitchat, but he didn't like the fact that the girl wasn't saying anything to him.

He tilted his head back towards her again and watched her carefully, his eyes squinting at her. She was gripping him tightly, both hands wound around his waist. Her position caused Shane's jacket to fall off of one shoulder and as a result her borrowed blouse was slipping too. This allowed him to see a large expanse of her neck and shoulder. Daryl could see a scar starting at her collar bone. She noticed his stare and let go of his waist quickly to readjust her shirt. Daryl jerked his head back to look ahead of him, blushing slightly.

"Where'd ya get that scar?" he asked her, immediately shocked at himself for making a second attempt to speak to her.

She didn't answer him and he shifted uncomfortably in the saddle—her grip around his waist seemed unbearably tight now even though he knew that if anything, she had loosened her hold on him.

The uncomfortable silence was interrupted as the horse whinnied and jerked backwards.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Daryl shouted at the spooked animal, but his words didn't comfort the horse. Instead, it reared upwards, throwing him and Casey off. Almost instantly, they tumbled off of the ledge of a cliff. Daryl tried to desperately cling onto any surface as he fell down the sharp incline. His head hit the rock cliff formation before he finally came to stop and fell into the shallow water with a splash. A second later he felt Casey crash into his chest.

"Son of a bitch." He grunted as rubbed his head. It came away bloody. His other arm circled around Casey who was quietly whimpering.

For a minute, he just lay in the shallow water, trying to reorient himself. His head was pounding, his vision all but blurred beyond recognition. At once, he felt the nausea rise in his throat, but he kept it down. Blood was pouring from the side of his head, oozing down into the collar of his shirt.

"Daryl." It was the quietest of whispers, but Daryl picked up his head with some effort. He looked down at Casey, her face inches from his own. Her brown eyes were hidden by her closed eyelids. In an instant Daryl realized that they were lying in a pool of blood. Casey's side was pierced by an arrow. His arrow.

"Fuck!" Daryl swore.

Casey just groaned as she tried to shift her weight off of him.

Daryl's arm was protectively wound around her. He held Casey tightly to himself as he helped her stand up. Slowly, they waded through the water to the shore. She instantly collapsed onto the sand, clutching her side. He fell next to her, but he immediately stood up, realizing that he needed to help her.

Casey's body was shivering as he kneeled next to her, pushing her hand away so he could see the damage his arrow had done. She tried to move away from his hand when he attempted to take Shane's jacket.

"No. Please." She whimpered.

"Need ta inspect the damage," he told her, gently holding her still as he looked at the wound. He didn't try to remove the jacket again.

She closed her eyes and tried to push herself forward. Daryl saw her struggle and quickly propped Casey onto her knees. She swayed unsteadily and he caught her before she could fall backwards. She leaned against him, her forehead resting against his neck. He saw that the arrow had completely pierced her side. He acted fast, cutting the sleeves off of his shirt before reaching around her to tie the fabric around the arrow.

"We need to get ya to Hershel," he told her quietly. She nodded in response, not attempting to move from her position against him.

Suddenly, he felt himself fall against her. The world around him went out of focus and back again before Daryl realized that Casey was asking him something.

"Daryl? Are you alright?" she asked, her voice trembling as she tried to help him up.

Daryl considered the question before shaking his head. He collapsed onto the ground, Casey trying to ease his fall.

His vision blurred again. He heard rustling in the bushes and he saw Casey stand up. He panicked and tried to stand up too but he only stumbled forward a few steps until she reached out and wrapped her hand around his forearm, steadying him.

"We have ta find the crossbow," he whispered. She nodded and together they stumbled into the water.

Thankfully, he found the crossbow relatively quickly. He turned to call Casey back to him when he saw her picking something else out of the water. It was Sophia's doll. He felt a sense of relief at finding the doll. That meant that Sophia had been somewhere nearby.

"S' Sophia's" he explained.

She nodded and stuffed the doll into the pocket of her jacket. He approached her, his fingers gripping onto her elbow as he pulled her back towards the shore. She gripped his arm tightly, also helping him keep his balance.

"Wait, Daryl. I gotta find my riffle."

"S' pointless. Guns probably ruined."

"It was my Dad's gun…" she said, not looking him directly, "and he's dead. It was the last thing—

"That don't matter. We gotta go. Now. S" dead weight," he interrupted her, already tugging her towards the incline. She didn't mention the riffle again.

"How are we going to make it back?" She asked him, staring up at the cliff they had fallen from.

"Come on," he told her. Leaning against each other for support, they began to climb up the incline.

You're done half. Stop being such a pussy, Daryl told himself as he continued pulling himself and Casey up the sharp slope. He knew that he couldn't leave her down there alone. It was too dangerous with the walkers roaming around. She had lost her riffle when they fell down the cliff and both of them were too weak to make it on their own.

"Come on," he muttered at Casey again as she stumbled against him, almost tripping them both. He pushed herself against her to propel himself forward. When he reached a relatively flat section of the slope he turned back to her, reaching his arm out to help her up. As she reached out to grip his arm, she lost her footing. He jumped forwards, trying to catch her but he was too weak and she only pulled him down along with her.

* * *

Casey fell backwards, engulfed by the pain. She could not breathe, could not think of anything but the pain radiating from foot to head. She opened her mouth wide, desperate to suck in the cool air, but her body would not cooperate with her. For one horrifying moment, she feared she would smother to death from the pain in her side. Her head was throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the agony she felt in her side.

She could hear someone mumbling something next to her. It took a second for her to realize that it was Daryl.

"Merle," he muttered.

She attempted to sit up…she had to wake Daryl. She couldn't make it up the cliff without him, but her shaky legs told her she still wasn't quite ready to stand, so she took the time to draw in every aspect of her surroundings from where she lay. Daryl was lying a couple of feet away from her, his crossbow near him. The wound on his head looked nasty and he was half-conscious, still mumbling to himself. She closed her eyes again.

"A girl…Casey," Daryl continued, "Shut up, bro."

She reopened her eyes when she felt something tugging at her sneakers. In an instant, she realized that it was a walker who was trying to chew through her shoes.

Casey stumbled away from the walker, falling to the ground with a loud thud. Her head swam, the pain intensifying. She could see more walkers stumbling towards her and Daryl. Her hands were shaking, her vision blurred, but she pulled herself up to her feet and walked towards the crossbow.

Something grabbed her by the hair, sending her to the ground. She hit the ground hard. She felt her shoulder pop out of place and she screamed in pain. The air was knocked from her body, making her swallow the scream. The pain was something she had never known before. It was almost enough to drown her in darkness. The crossbow fell from her hands with a loud clank. The walker was standing over her. Blood and gods knew what else was plastered on his face and hair. He jumped at her, bringing his weight on top of her, his hands reaching towards her throat. The weight upon her dislocated shoulder was unbearable. Casey struggled in his grasp, but she was too weak. She was going to die here—just another statistic of the zombie apocalypse.

"Daryl," Casey gasped, her hand reaching out to him.

Though it was only a whispered gasp, Daryl seemed to have heard her voice. He turned to her and his eyes grew wide at seeing Casey grappling with the walker.

"No!" Daryl grunted. He stumbled towards her. As the final seconds of her life were dwindling down, she saw him raise the knife and thrust it through the side of the walker's head. At last, the walker slumped on top of her. Its hands released her throat and she breathed in the most delicious of breaths.

With a sob, Casey pushed the dead walker off of her, crawling away from him. She held her side, the pain was excruciating. Three walkers were standing in a circle around Daryl now who was on his knees, his blood pouring from his head. One of the walkers grabbed Daryl, exposing his neck but before it could bite him, he twisted the knife into its eye and Casey could hear the sound of muscle ripping in her ear.

With what little strength she had left she picked up the crossbow. There's no arrows, she thought, horrified. Her hands desperately reached for the arrow in her side. Her side was screaming in pain, but her mind forced her to be calm. She began to pull at the arrow, fighting the through the pain, until finally she felt the arrow exit her side. She gasped for breath. She tried to remember her training, tried to remember what her Uncle had taught her. Casey loaded the arrow with difficulty, but she managed to hit one of the walker straight through the eye. Daryl killed the third walker immediately. Defeated, she closed her eyes, dropping the crossbow with a clatter on the ground.

Someone took her gently by the shoulders, tugging her towards them. Casey's face was growing red, then purple, to blue. Why could she not breathe? What had broken within her? Is this what it feels like die? She wondered.

"Casey," Daryl said, "I gotta bind your wound and fix yer shoulder"

She managed to nod. She doesn't think she's ever heard him use her name to address her before. Taking three long breaths to calm herself, she nodded at Daryl who grabbed her shoulder. She leaned against him and with on quick yank, her shoulder popped back in place. Her screams were muffled by Daryl's shoulder. Her shoulder was fixed, though it throbbed horribly.

"Daryl," Casey choked out in pain, getting his attention, "you have to leave me here."

"Ain't leaving you. C'mon now we gotta make it up the cliff," he said quietly as he readjusted the fabric around her side. He rose to his feet, holding his hand out to her.

"My side feels better, thanks," she whispered as she stood up.

She gripped his arm, determined to make it out alive with him. With all of the strength she could muster, Casey got to her knees. She knew she was wounded…she could feel the cuts and bruises on her body, could feel her previously dislocated shoulder, could feel the pain in her side, but she pushed forward. Blood and tears blinded her vision, yet she continued to push forward up the slope with Daryl at her side.

* * *

Daryl was worried that they would run into walkers on their way back to the farm, but they hadn't seen anyone yet. He was having a hard time walking steadily, the loss of blood was making his head spin, but Casey was in worse shape. They were both soaked in her blood. He was shocked that she had managed to pull out the arrow out of her side and then used it to kill a walker…and she was walking beside him, despite the grueling hike up the cliff. She was tougher than she looked. Her hand was tightly grasping onto his bicep as they walked side by side. His own arm was wrapped completely around her. He kept looking down at her as they walked. He was scared that she was losing too much blood and that they weren't going fast enough. He knew that he needed to get them to the farm and fast, but leaving her in the forest was not an option. Daryl wasn't sure how long they had been walking, but his vision was beginning to blur again. Occasionally, he would see and hear Merle taunting him, calling him a pussy for caring about the girl. It motivated him. He kept moving, chasing Merle who was always somewhere in the distance, calling him names, telling him that Casey would die soon.

He pushed through it, not wanting to consider the fact that Casey might not make back to the farm. He scowled at the thought of seeing Shane, who he had no doubt would be royally pissed at him for Casey's state. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him and he squeezed her arm gently. It was his fault she had been pierced with his arrow and it was his fault she had been forced to rip it out of her side. She attempted to smile at him, but he didn't return the smile, and instead pushed forward, his heart racing. He didn't stop walking until the farm was in his sight.

He saw Shane and Rick running towards them when they were already halfway across the field.

"Daryl, what happened?" Rick asked him when they finally reached them.

"Out. Of. My. Way," Daryl ground out as he continued walking towards the house, pulling Casey along with him.

"I fell of the horse…then I fell onto an arrow…and I think I dislocated my shoulder." Casey wheezed out, almost incoherently. Shane ran forward, pulling Casey out of Daryl's grip, freezing momentarily when Casey let out a sharp cry of pain. Daryl released Casey and let Rick help him towards the house, he leaned on the man to keep himself steady.

"What happened?!" Rick asked again, obviously not understanding Casey's explanation. Shane was already running towards the house with Casey in his arms, not turning around.

"She got hurt," he answered, speeding up so he could make it into the house faster. Rick kept up with him, watching Daryl with alarm. Shane continued running with Casey in his arms. From this angle, she looked so frail and weak, but Daryl now knew that she was tough as nails.

"Hershel!" Shane shouted as he ran up to the house.

Hershel ran out onto the porch, looking in astonishment and horror at Casey and then at Daryl. Both of them were drenched in blood. Casey's white jeans were now pink from all the blood she lost. Daryl's shirt was torn and the wound on his head was still bleeding. Shane looked at Hershel in despair, holding Casey's body close to him.

"Let's go into the house. Follow me. I'll need to look at both of you." Hershel commanded, gesturing at Daryl and Shane to follow him.

Daryl followed Shane and Hershel into the house. He saw Shane gently place Casey's body down onto the bed.

"Daryl, sit on the chair. I'll take a look at you afterwards." Hershel ordered him. Daryl obeyed quietly. Shane was glaring at him, but Daryl didn't pay in any attention. He just stared at Casey who now looked unconscious. His heart jerked into his throat, almost choking him in grief.

"Rick, Shane, you need to leave. I need space. Daryl, where is she injured?" Hershel asked him as he ushered the two men out of the room before turning back to Casey. Shane didn't exit the room, instead he chose to stand in the doorway, not moving his eyes off of Casey. Hershel began to unzip Casey's jacket and Daryl quickly looked away, not wanting to see the damage.

"Yer horse threw us off. An arrow went through her right side. She popped her shoulder too." Daryl explained quietly, still not looking at Casey's unconscious body. He decided not to mention the fact that Casey pulled the arrow out of her own side to fend off three walkers.

"Get out," Casey suddenly whispered, "He needs to leave." She told Hershel.

Her eyes were wild and desperate. Hershel slowly nodded at Casey and then motioned for the three men to leave the room. Daryl wanted protest but was cut off by Hershel. "Wait for me outside, I'll call you when I need you" he ordered Daryl.

Daryl looked over at Casey and saw that her eyes were open and her body was trembling. She was gripping the now open jacket around her body. "Daryl?" Casey whispered, as she held out Sophia's doll, reaching the doll out to him, "here." This gesture was enough to destroy Daryl in one single moment.

He took the doll and staggered out of the room, having to catch himself on the wall before he fell on his face. The door shut behind him with a click, Shaking the dizziness from his head, he joined Rick and Shane in the hallway. Rick and Shane didn't say anything. The silence deafening. Daryl slumped against the wall, his hands shaking.

"What the hell," Shane hissed, his eyes blazing, "she could have died! You were supposed to look out for herself, you—

"Shane, enough." Rick interrupted.

Daryl was ready to hit Shane and let all of his frustration, guilt and anger out on the man but when he moved towards him, Rick placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"She can look after herself," Daryl hissed, glaring at Shane.

"Is that Sophia's?" Rick asked him gently before Shane could say anything in return.

"Casey found it in the creek bed. She must have dropped it crossing there somewhere," he replied, sinking down onto the ground.

"Can you point it out on the map?" Rick asked.

When Daryl nodded, Shane left to get the map, but not before shooting Daryl another dirty look.

"Yeah, you're welcome!" Daryl called after him.

When Shane brought back the map, Daryl pointed to where him and Casey found the doll. After that the three men settled into silence. Daryl ignored Lori and Glenn who came to inquire about Casey.

"I had no idea we'd be going through the antibiotics so quickly," Hershel said as he stepped out of the room before he closed the door.

"How's Casey?" Shane asked.

"Casey will recover. It was a nasty wound and needed a few stiches," Hershel said, and then turned to Daryl, "Now let's take a look at you, son. Any idea what happened to my horse?"

"Yeah, the one who almost killed us? If it's smart, it left the country," Daryl grumbled, but followed Hershel into the sickroom where Casey lay.

He walked past Shane and Rick, boxing them out so that they couldn't follow him into the room.

"We call that one Nelly, as in nervous Nelly. I could have told you she'd throw you if you bothered to ask," Hershel told him as he closed the door behind them.

Daryl lingered by the doorway, unsure where to look. Casey was lying on her back, the blanket pulled up to her neck, almost at her ears. Shane's jacket was thrown her shoulders too. But, this close to Casey, he could see that Hershel had removed her shirt. He suddenly felt embarrassed, and scowled slightly at Hershel before he tilted his head away from Casey.

Hershel motioned for him to sit on the chair near the bed.

"Will he live, doc?" Casey asked, half kidding as she lifted her eyes to look up at Daryl. Daryl scoffed at her comment, but allowed Hershel to examine his head.

"The cut isn't that deep. I'm more worried about the large bump. I'll clean up the wound and wrap the wound. I'm assigning bedrest for you both. I'll be right back. Don't move." Hershel told him sternly as he stood up to go get the supplies needed for him.

When Hershel left, they both remained silent for a few minutes. He could feel her eyes watching him though. He left tense, almost uncomfortable being left alone with her.

"It is my fault, you know. It is all my fault," Casey whispered suddenly, "I think I spooked the horse. I kicked Nelly by accident."

Daryl slowly turned to look at her. She turned and met his gaze, allowing him to see the emotions he had never seen before on her face. When she tried to sit up, he got to his feet and helped, using one arm to keep the blanket wrapped around her. He reached over, lightly touching her hand with his thumb, almost as if by accident.

"Nah, it ain't your fault," he finally said.

Casey smiled bitterly, angry tears filling her eyes. She blinked them away hurriedly, refusing to allow them to fall.

"Yes. It was," she whispered, "I—

Daryl sighed in frustration, shaking his head in irritation, "quit bitchin' it ain't your fault. You heard Hershel, the horse was gonna throw us anyway."

He sat down on the bed next to her, trying to avoid staring at her for too long. It made him feel like guilty looking at her and he already felt like shit.

He considered his next words. He didn't face her directly when he finally cleared his throat and spoke again, low and strained. "Ya did real good." He screwed his face when he heard the words leave his mouth and stared at the floor, waiting for her response. It was awkward as hell, and Casey seemed to realize this from his silence because out of the corner of his eye he saw her mouth lift into a slight small.

"Thanks, Daryl. For everything."

He stared her for a moment, but then he nodded his head and went back to his chair to wait for Hershel's arrival. Shane, Rick, and Hershel entered the room shortly after and Daryl felt slightly more relaxed now that he wasn't alone with her.

* * *

 **I am still playing around with the tenses/voice I want to use, so any** **criticism is appreciated. Thank you to those of you who followed/favorited/reviewed :)**


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